


Something's Got a Hold On Me

by AbschaumNo1



Series: Les AUs de l'ABC [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbschaumNo1/pseuds/AbschaumNo1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire clash all the time until they clash hard</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something's Got a Hold On Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing this ting where I write an AU for every letter of the alphabet and [Carrie](http://thecrackfairy.tumblr.com) prompted me with "Burlesque" for B.  
> It turned out (very) loosely inspired by the 2010 film with Christina Aguilera and Cher and the title is also the title of the first song Christina Aguilera sings in it (originally by Etta James).

When Enjolras started at the club it was nothing but a way to earn money. He had needed a job and the club had been looking for a dancer. It wasn't Enjolras' dream engagement, trained dancer he may have been, but burlesque wasn't exactly his style. Nevertheless, bills had to be paid and he needed some way to survive.

The people working at the club were an interesting assortment. First and foremost there was Fantine, who owned the club together with her husband, Valjean; the bar was tended to by Bahorel, a bulky man who had some talent for performance if his bar-tending was any indication, and Courfeyrac, a human whirlwind who embraced each and everyone with the same warmth and passion, though none with quite as much of it as his boyfriend Combeferre, who helped Fantine with the accounts of the club; among the waiters and waitresses were Matelote and Gibelotte, two girls that could be as sweet as they could be menacing; Feuilly was the guy who was responsible for the music; while Joly and Bossuet were not only in a relationship (somehow, there was also a girl involved, Enjolras hadn't quite figured it out yet), but also dealt with anything relating to the stage; there was Jehan, choreographer and poet, with no eye for fashion, and a clothing style that hid his muscles extremely well; and then there was Grantaire. Grantaire was the star of the show, he was an incredibly good performer, his dancing and singing were amazing, but he didn't care for it, he drank too much, and never appeared to practice; it appeared that he genuinely didn't care for anything in his life but the alcohol he drank, and Enjolras was sure that the only reason he was still there was his talent.

There were more people working at the club, but this group of people was tight-knit, more of a family than anything else, and the other workers were more like distant relations. They welcomed Enjolras with open arms, and soon he found himself right in the middle of this assortment of people, as much part of the family as any of them. They took over his life and Enjolras couldn't say that he minded any of it. He was fast friends with all of them, except Grantaire. The two of them were always at odds, they worked together well enough, but away from the stage they clashed all the time.

The problem was probably that Grantaire didn't take anything seriously, while Enjolras was well, he was the total opposite; if he did something, he just couldn't do it halfway, he was focussed and took his work seriously. After the first few weeks Enjolras just stopped trying to care about Grantaire's lack of caring. Unfortunately enough Grantaire seemed to find it hilarious to test Enjolras' patience by teasing and mocking him at every chance he got, and even though he knew it was in a friendly way Enjolras couldn't help but grit his teeth and finally shoot back. Most of the others reacted with a simple shake of their heads to their bickering as long as they were around, and so neither of them saw the soft smile on Jehan's face, or overheard Fantine's sigh.

It was an open secret that Grantaire liked to hook up with people, and that he had had affairs with regular visitors before, the most gossip-inducing one of which had probably been a three way thing he had going on with Montparnasse, known in the city for his various rather shady activities, and his girlfriend Éponine, whose father was deeply involved in a variety of criminal activities all over the city. And while it wasn't an affair anymore, Montparnasse and Grantaire were still known to have sex every once in a while. At the time though they weren't seeing each other at all and Grantaire had exchanged his hook ups for a friends with benefits arrangement with Matelote.

Enjolras knew about it, just like anyone else did, but he was still surprised when he walked in on them making out one day. They were in the dressing room, Grantaire sitting on a chair with Matelote in his lap, kissing each other, their hands beneath their clothes. Enjolras walked in to dump his bag in a corner when he stopped in his tracks and blushed at the sight of the two people already in the room. He turned on his heel and left again, hoping that they hadn't seen him, but just as he left through the door again, Grantaire looked past Matelote's head and saw his retreating back.

Enjolras didn't see how Grantaire pushed Matelote away, a slightly panicked look on his face, the word “fuck” tumbling out of his mouth before he could help it. Matelote looked at him in confusion for a moment before the click of the closing door registered in her mind.

“It was him, wasn't it?” she asked, pity clearly written on her face, and Grantaire nodded. “Well, it's not like he didn't know about it.”

“I know. I just...I'm sorry.” Grantaire ran a hand over his face.

Matelote smiled. “Don't be; I understand.” She stepped aside so she could embrace him and he leaned his head against her belly, one arm loosely circled around her hip. “It's ok, Grantaire. We would all have to be blind not to see the looks you give him,” she said, one hand carding through his curls in a soothing motion.

“It's just.. I feel like he'd never see me that way, because he'll always be disappointed in what he'll see. And meanwhile he's just so fucking perfect and beautiful and talented.”

“You have never seen him look at you when you're on stage, haven't you? He gives you the exact same looks that you give him. He probably doesn't realise it himself, but he is enamoured with you. Just have a little hope and give him some time to figure it out and he will come to his senses.”

“Yeah, sure,” Grantaire snorted, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “Thanks for trying though, Matelote.”

Matelote dropped a kiss onto the top of his head before she unwound his arm from around her hips and left him there. He didn't hear her heavy sigh as he got up to look for his cigarettes.

Meanwhile Enjolras had made a beeline for the bar and fell into a barstool next to Combeferre. The other man raised an eyebrow at him.

“Didn't you want to get rid of that?” he asked with a nod towards the bag on the floor.

“It was occupied,” Enjolras said as he let his head fall onto the bar. He didn't know why it bothered him so much to see Grantaire with Matelote. He had known about it, and after all, Grantaire's choices were entirely his own; there was nothing to be bothered about. He was definitely overreacting, but seeing Grantaire and Matelote engaged like that had just made him irrationally angry. He had wanted to tear her away from Grantaire and...no, he wouldn't follow that train of thought, that was ridiculous.

While Enjolras had been thinking Courfeyrac had approached and was now poking Enjolras' arm.

“What's bothering you? It can't be a hangover, can it?”

Enjolras only replied with a groan, and so it was Combeferre who answered the question.

“He walked into the dressing room and it was occupied.”

“Ah. Tough luck.” Courfeyrac patted him on the shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There is nothing to talk about.” Enjolras finally found it in himself to raise his head.

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “If you say that I'll not contradict you. But if you want to talk about it you can always come to me.”

Grantaire chose that moment to appear beside him, an unlit cigarette between his lips and a bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand that he put down on the counter.

“You wouldn't happen to have a lighter on you?” he asked Courfeyrac who produced one and handed it to him wordlessly. “Thank you.” He lit his cigarette and raised an eyebrow at Enjolras when he handed the lighter back. “Who rained on your parade?”

“No one,” Enjolras replied, “You finished fast.”

“It happens.” Grantaire shrugged.

Courfeyrac looked between them and asked suddenly, “Do you need a glass with that, R?”

“No, I'm fine.” Grantaire shook his head as he picked the bottle up again, and started to walk into the direction of the dressing room. “Thanks again, Courf.”

“Not a problem.” And as soon as Grantaire was out of earshot he turned to Enjolras again, one eyebrow raised. “You're sure that you don't want to talk about it?”

“Very sure,” Enjolras replied.

It was a few weeks later that Enjolras and Grantaire had their biggest argument yet. It was after the show, and Grantaire was already deep into a bottle of whiskey. They were the last ones in the dressing room, and the others, who had gathered around the bar could only catch snatches of what they said.

When the two of them began to get loud several of the others looked like they were about to go and break them up. Bahorel and Bossuet shared a look and there was a deep frown on Courfeyrac's face. But before any of them could leave the bar Fantine spoke up.

“Let them talk it out. They need to do this, it is about time. If we stop them now it will only fester and they won't get over it.”

“I just don't understand why you have to be so...you! It's infuriating! You're so talented and amazing, but you throw it all away. God damn I can't believe you don't see it!” It was Enjolras who was shouting right now, while Grantaire's reply was too calm to hear. “For god's sake, Grantaire, why don't you see it? Why won't you just acknowledge what everyone knows? You do know it so why don't you just accept it?”

Another lull as Grantaire replied again and then a muffled “Oh for f-” and shortly after a crash.

“I think now is the time when we should intervene,” Fantine said finally, and nodded at Bahorel and Bossuet, who stormed past her without a word, Valjean at their heels, to end the fight in the dressing room.

But none of them were quite prepared for what they say when they actually entered the room.

When Enjolras woke up he was distinctively aware of someone spooning him; there was a hand lying loosely on his hip and he could feel the faint scratch of stubble on the person's cheeks as they stirred slightly and snuggled into his back. It took, Enjolras a moment to recollect what had happened the night before to bring him here.

He had argued with Grantaire; they had shouted at each other, or rather, he had shouted at Grantaire, because the other man had kept infuriatingly calm, and there had been a great deal of frustration and anger. He remembered Grantaire rebuking everything he said; he had told him about how talented he thought he was, and how amazing, but Grantaire had only replied with snorting and telling him that no, he definitely wasn't talented or anything and that just because he could moderately sing it wasn't reason enough to believe that he was talented. In the end Enjolras had just lost his temper and kissed him, because he had no more words to explain to him just how wrong he was.

To his utter surprise Grantaire had kissed him back. It wasn't sweet or anything, nothing like Enjolras would have expected any first kiss to be, it was much more violent and biting, not loving, but letting out their anger. Enjolras almost bit his way into Grantaire's mouth, which only prompted the other man to reciprocate likewise. And then Grantaire pulled Enjolras flush against his body, and let out a groan, as his hands slipped around Enjolras' body to grab his arse. Enjolras broke the kiss to gasp for air.

“We should move this somewhere else,” he said, not moving away from Grantaire, who grinned.

“I live just around the corner,” he replied, before closing the distance between them again. They tried to move towards the back door awkwardly, even though they were far too close to each other to move. It was no surprise that they managed to brush the bottle of whiskey that was still standing where Grantaire had put it on one of the corners of a table, and knocked it over. It fell and crashed onto the floor and for a very short moment they broke apart to look at it, before Grantaire shrugged and said, “It was the bad stuff anyways.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow but Grantaire grinned and pulled him along, out of the door and towards his flat.

Enjolras was not entirely sure how they had reached the flat, but he was fairly sure that it had taken longer than it should and that there had been a lot of kissing. He also remembered slamming Grantaire against the wall as soon as the door had closed behind them, and then getting off as many of their clothes as possible on their way to the bedroom. It had been frenzied and just this side of rough, and Enjolras was fairly sure that Grantaire would feel it today, but it had been good and it had cleared up a thing or two.

Sure that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, and not wanting to wake Grantaire, Enjolras carefully crawled out of the bed and went to find the bathroom and then the kitchen. He was making coffee when Grantaire snuck up at him from behind and wrapped his arms around him.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Grantaire said, kissing the side of Enjolras' neck. 

Enjolras started the machine and turned around in Grantaire's arms, one eyebrow raised. “Sunshine?”

Grantaire grinned. “Because you light up my life or something cheesy like that. Also I had to imagine the look of sunlight on your body.”

Enjolras smiled, and closed the distance between them to kiss Grantaire. When he pulled away again he asked, “So what about the look of sunlight on my body?”

Grantaire leaned in, and left a kiss on Enjolras' earlobe, before he whispered, “It would look ravishing.”

Enjolras chuckled as Grantaire left a trail of kisses down to his collarbone, and up to his lips again. “So it would on you,” he told him, before pulling him in and letting his hands wander.

There was a faint smile on Grantaire's face but it didn't fool Enjolras and so he decided to take the initiative on this one. Ignoring everything else he grabbed Grantaire's hand and pulled him out of the kitchen and back towards the bedroom again. If Grantaire didn't believe him he would have to show him. And if they needed to talk about all of this they could still do it later.

**Author's Note:**

> [Insert body worship sex scene that I won't write because of my inability to write porn and that essay that I should have written instead here]
> 
> Come say 'hi' on [Tumblr](http://abschaumno1.tumblr.com) and if you have prompts for more AUs for this series I would be grateful if you could hit my ask box.


End file.
